“Are you okay? You seem a little jumpy.”
“No, I’m fine.” I raked shaky hands through my hair. “I have to finish up the numbers for the day.”
“Don’t mind me. I’ll have a look around.”
Telling me not to pay attention to him was like ignoring a tiger in one’s bedroom. “Focus,” I muttered to myself and turned to the credit-card receipts. Half an hour later, I closed my book and turned off the computer. I’d learned from my father never to rely only on one form of reporting. If the computer fails, you have your paper trail, and if your books get destroyed by fire or some other damage, you have the computer backup.
“You have some amazing pieces here. How did you get started?” Nate held a pair of antique bookends I’d picked up at a flea market upstate.
“My father owned this store, and I grew up here. I’ve always loved history and old, beautiful homes. It seemed only natural to take over when he died.”
“I followed in my father’s footsteps too,” Nate said quietly, setting the bookends down on the display case. “How much for these?”
I checked the tag. “Four hundred for the pair. They’re mahogany, hand-carved—”
“I like them. They’ll look nice in my library. That’s good enough.” He pulled out his credit card, and I shook my head at him.
“These are beautiful pieces that were the property of Washington Irving. We have a letter stating he placed the first edition ofThe Legend of Sleepy Hollowin these bookends in his personal study. You should want to know more about what you spend your money on.”
“You’re a romantic, aren’t you?” Nate gave me that slow, slightly crooked smile, and my heart began that crazy pounding again. I struggled to keep my voice from shaking.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure.”
“I’m interested in facts and numbers. That’s what I can depend on.”
“Not everything is black or white, though. Sometimes there are shades. And reasons behind the choices made.”
“Maybe.” He frowned but said nothing further.
He waited while I wrapped up the pieces for him and slid them into a sturdy shopping bag. Our fingers brushed when I returned his credit card, and he held on to my hand.
“Would you like to have dinner tonight? This time no fighting over the check, okay?” His fingers caressed mine. “Please, Presley?”
Chapter Four
Over coffee that morning, I thought about Presley and that kiss. Lunchtime found me staring out the window, wondering if I’d ruined my chances with him by coming on too strong. There wasn’t one damn reason why I shouldn’t be able to get Presley Dawson out of my mind. God knew I’d kissed plenty of guys, but kissing Presley…Jesus. If I wasn’t already an insomniac, that damn kiss would’ve kept me up all night. The smell of his skin, the rasp of his cheek against mine, the hard ridge of his thick cock against my thigh…pick one.
I wanted all three and more.
The workday had been a torment, not only because of the fire ignited in my belly the previous evening, but because I was stuck in an afternoon meeting with Ethan and the other partners, our father’s contemporaries, who loved to reminisce about the good old days and how much they missed Whit Sherman.
What would Whit do?was a constant refrain, and I was glad Ethan silenced them and didn’t leave it up to me, since he was the even-tempered brother.
“I think at this point the firm needs to move beyond what our father would’ve done and make our own decisions going forward.”
I nodded. I would’ve simply said, “Fuck it all and let’s just get the job done.”
Tact had never been my strong point. I’d worked side by side with Ethan and my father, thinking I owned the world. Before my father died and the family peace shattered, I’d lived in a bubble that only lots of money could provide, and with the naïve belief that life would continue on a smooth, untroubled path. I lived unaware, sleeping with whomever I chose, being seen at all the “in” parties, while a ticking time bomb waited in the wings.
Now, I didn’t give a damn. I’d ceded over most clients to the junior associates and let Ethan take the lead on our major clients. While he’d also taken the news of our father’s infidelity hard, Ethan was ten years older than me and had married right out of college. He had a family to take care of and hadn’t been as close with our father as I. Lucky for him, he had Alison to comfort him during our mother’s surgery and recovery. She was the best thing to ever happen to him and I loved her, not only for how much she loved Ethan, but how she helped our mother, acting more like a true daughter than one only related by marriage.
The other partners left the conference room, and Ethan and I remained seated at the table. He toyed with the leftover crumbs of his muffin and finally pushed away the plate.
“Did you go?”
“Go where?” I was busy thinking of Presley and wanted to get back to my office to look up his store and figure out when I could get to see him.
“To the grief support meeting. Nate, come on.” Ethan threw his napkin at me.
